I wonder, how am I supposed to feel when you're not here?
Again, he's leaving. Gloved hands are moving to pull the hood above his rose-coloured hair, obscure his blue eyes from her view. She's silent; just watching him like a cat. Her muscles are taunt, heavy with the burden of him being called away with out her. Again.
What if this is the last time she sees him? What if this is the last time he smiles to her, tells her he loves her, strokes a blonde tress from before her aquamarine eyes and tells her he'll return.
There's always that chance. That small, significant chance that Marluxia will leave, and Larxene will find herself mourning a broken heart that never even existed in the first place.
"Don't look at me like that," his voice resounds in her ears: low, almost a demand but he's not that mean.
It's scary, the power this one man holds over her.
"I'll miss you," she admits softly, trying to beckon the Graceful Assassin to come back to bed, to make love to her one more time before he left.
But the hood is pulled over his head, and in the shadow of it he smirks. "I won't be long. Goodbye, love."
And he's gone.